Amos, I did not realize how deeply you cared for it, how much it meant to the fulfillment of your life to have it. Therefore, by the authority and power invested in me as Mom's Favorite, I herewith declare and proclaim that Amos has dibs on 4545454 when it comes around. He may also have 66166, 66066 (both of them very nice spinners indeed, and 99199 and 99099 as well. 88188 and 88088 are already staked by Eiseley.

Someone needs to, like, get a life, eh? That is what I am thinkin'. Anyways, I got dibs on the ONE number that really flippin' matters here. That's right, eh? And you know what it is? You don't, do youse? Maybe I won't even tell you. I will just swoop down and flippin' take it when the time comes and youse flipheads will have nothin' to do after that but take yer flippin' marbles and go home cryin', eh?

I wonder--as an imaginary entity, would he have to go into imaginary past lives to contact the imaginary incidents which crushed his imaginary spirit so long ago, leaving him a karmic cauldron of bitter but imaginary hatred and frustration? Were his imaginary goals and purposes crushed by imaginary villains using overwhelming but imaginary force, suffocating his imaginary hopes?

You flippers gotta be abowt the weerdest people I ever hearn of. Who says I am angry? Who? If I was angry I would be swearin' a lot more, eh? It would be FLIP YOU! and FLIP THIS! and FLIP THAT! and WHYNCHA FLIP RIGHT OFF, EH? YA FLIPPIN' BOLTHOLE!!!

See the differents? When I talk like that to the cops, they yewshally end up arrestin' me and chargin' me with a lotta stuff that ain't fair at all. Cops are waaaay oversensitive. I think people like that should not get a job like that becoz they are too oversensitive and they won't handle it right when they are, like, under pressure, eh? I would not have been arrested near as many times if it were not for these waaay oversensitive cops we got arownd here.

Well, he is Canadian. That all by itself causes Canuck Syndrome, recognized by psychological associations and practioners around the world as a psychosociopathic abnormalization of the mind caused by snow, cold, and living in close-to-intimate contact with beavers and hockey.

In Shame's case, I think the "intimate" part applies to his relationship with beavers. I understand that he once suffered a bad case of venereal termites because of that, but the Canadian health people fixed him up with a wooden peg...soft wood.

Yeah, right...you go ahead and have yer stoopid fantasees, man. The real truth is that I rule and you are like last weeks' stale pizza crust that fell behind the cowch. NO one is gonna try a taste of that, eh? But me...I am a hole different story. I am the MAN arownd this town, eh? I am a legend! My name is knowed as far away as...well, places like Wawa and Elliot Lake, that's how far. (I got arrested drunk and disordairly in Wawa once, and fer borrowin' a pickup truck (just for 5 minutes!) in Elliot Lake.) I did not know that the bolthole with the pickup truck would turn out to be such a total dipwad! He called the cops on me. Unbe-flippin'-leevable! He shoulda spoke to me first and it alls woulda been okay, eh? In my own town people understand that I am the kinda guy who borrows a lotta stuff...but only when he really needs it...and only for as long as, like, totally nesissary too. So they mostly do not call the cops on me. They yewshally just call Don instead, and that is a hassle coz he thinks becoz he is the older flippin' brother that he has some kinda higher spot on the flippin' totum pole, know what I mean? That of coarse is total flippin' bullroar coz I got majer advantages in the looks department. I am not goin' BALD like Don is. I know it drives him crazy that I have all my hair and he is losin' most of his, but there is nothin' he can do abowt it. Ha! Ha! I find it hard to figger why all them girls hang arownd Don, but it is probally becoz by bein' arownd him they can be closer to ME. Yeah, that's gotta be it.

The waves of change are coming. I am heading for Durham at the end of Spetember. I just had an interesting talk with a friend from my childhood I haven't spoken to in thirty years, who runs MIT's office in DC, interfacing with DARPA and such like things. Amazing, the things people get upo to behind your back when you're not looking.

It seems we sang the moon up in Tivili Gardens, Copenhagen with my sister one summer evening back in 1972, an event I forgot entirely.

I b'leeve he is escorting his daughter to her year abroad studies in Europe at the time. But I love the concept of the DARPA Bums, and think he should write a book by that name, and will tell him so. Consider the idea thoroughly stolen!

I am at work, in an office on the second floor, contemplating a complex circuit diagram for a two-channel amplifier which cleverly mixes frequencies. I could tellyou more but I would have to kill you. So of course, I will not.

Six weeks! And then the day of passage arrives. No wakeup call or half-sleeping commute, no login to the day's efforts. No more IP, no more IT, no more SOP, no more HR, no more R&D, no more P&L. All this, swept into the hen house of history.

Sorry, misread your post. I'm glad that your frequency-skipping device will use more than two frequencies. And it was June 10, 1941 when frequency-switching patent was issued.

"In the United States Hedy Lamarr and George Antheil, shunned by the Navy, no longer pursued their invention. But in 1957, the concept was taken up by engineers at the Sylvania Electronic Systems Division, in Buffalo, New York. Their arrangement, using, of course, electronics rather than piano rolls, ultimately became a basic tool for secure military communications. It was installed on ships sent to blockade Cuba in 1962, about three years after the Lamarr-Antheil patent had expired. Subsequent patents in frequency changing, which are generally unrelated to torpedo control, have referred to the Lamarr-Antheil patent as the basis of the field, and the concept lies behind the principal anti-jamming device used today, for example, in the U.S. government's Milstar defense communication satellite system."

There is a world of difference between frequency-skipping (used in radio links, for example, as a security measure inter alia) and mixing frequencies using local oscillators, which allows you to process the signals at a lower sample rate, and do other advantageous things with them. There is also a world of difference between two channels and two frequencies. We handle scores of frequencies ranging from 8 Hz to 500 kHz, for example, with the same instrument, many of them simultaneously such as when seeking passively for signals of opportunity within a wide band of possible frequencies.

Yeah, but those ELFs are also used in energizing buried cables so their paths can be traced. The LFs make for longer-run transmissions before the energy dissipates and less bleed through onto adjacent conductors.

Sure, sure. I think your not only listening in on our nuclear submarines' communication but your low frequency stuff has inflamed gnu's sciatic nerve and is causing him the unendurable pain he is enduring.

You should, at the very least, apologize for causing him unendurable pain.

I suspect the sciatica inflammation was caused by Gnu suppressing his considerable rage at Chongo. Our instruments detect signals, they don't emanate. Well, the transmitters do, but they are usually direct-connected, and given the power cubed law the emanations wouldn't even reach gnu from here.

ANyway, I was listening in on some communications between nucelar submarines the other day and one of them remarked, "Oh, that Rapparree guy? THinks he's so high and mighty? Yeah, just 'cause he operates above sea level, he believes he has a dry wit...whaddya gonna do, ya know whaddImean?". The other submarine just nodded. I think it was on patrol or sompn.

Yeah, they talk about me all the time. And as for not causing gnu pain, don't forget that a receiver is just a transmitter in reverse. You plugged it in backwards and the seismic theta waves (to which he is very sensitive) are causing him to endure unendurable pain. I'd sketch the schematics for you but even MOAB has imposed limitations.

See, you got your power input. Power goes a through a line and into a squiggle thingie and out the other side, where there's a dark triangle with a heavy bar across the pointy end. Then there's a C-shape with a bar and a thing like the front of end of a music staff only there's no end of the measure and only four lines and they point down. Then there's some more of those triangle-bar thingies and some more squiggles. At one point the line goes down and there's a down-pointing triangle made of up some lines that get smaller and smaller. Anyway, there are some places where the lines make an upside-down U over other lines. And a line going up that has another triangle on it, flat side up with a line through the middle from left to right (or up and down, depending on how you're looking). In a couple of places the lines have a dot with a diagonal line coming up, a little gap, and the line continues on the other side.

Plunging into dishes and kitchen clutter in preparations for the weekend of canning jelly. And I made a bowl of yoghurt. I came up for air to skim the Chongo antics but I did see another reference to Amos' retirement. Amos, you'd better not be one of those folks who turns up his toes six months after he retires!

It is I, the wanderig hero come Far from the trumps, far from the drum, Come from the Mexican valley far Where the streets are stone, and the roads are tar. Come to the home of the Mother high To claim the hero's rightful pie The 500th post of this K I claim In sainted Isabella's name And let no man demand I yield Or meet me on the hero's field.